


building bridges in the snow

by theevilcleavage



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theevilcleavage/pseuds/theevilcleavage
Summary: Ivy's been acting distant lately, and Harley wants to know why. (Or, the one where Harley and Ivy go ice-skating and talk about how they feel.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> After the election on Tuesday, I feel like we all deserve some Harley/Ivy holiday fluff, don't you? Please enjoy!

Harley has been begging Ivy to take her ice-skating for weeks.

The weather is perfect for it, and more importantly, Harley is really itching to throw herself into the holiday spirit. And what better way to do that than heading downtown to the ice rink and getting a look at all of the pretty Christmas decorations?

Ivy doesn’t seem to understand the appeal. 

“No way, Harl.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun!” Harley insists, tugging at Ivy’s arm and preparing her most adorable pout. “Please, Red? Pretty please?”

But Ivy just gives her that familiar, long-suffering look and shakes her head.

At this point, Harley is starting to wonder whether Ivy has some kind of personal vendetta against ice-skating, or maybe against the holiday season altogether. She didn’t even smile when Harley stuck fake antlers on Bud and Lou last Friday to make them look like Santa’s reindeer.

Come to think of it, Ivy hasn’t been smiling much at all lately. She’s been more focused on her work than usual, heading out to her greenhouse three or four times a day to work on her newest experiments. She won’t even let Harley come with her anymore to keep her company.

Which is weird, because Harley really thought that biting the bullet and leaving the Joker would be a good thing for them. It would give them loads more time to spend together, and they’d finally get to be real, actual girlfriends who go on dates and cook each other breakfast.

But they haven’t so much as kissed in over a month, and Harley is starting to wonder if she did something stupid that could have messed things up between them. 

She’s sure that if she can pinpoint what that something was, she’ll be able to make it up to Ivy.

And then maybe Ivy will stop being such a total Grinch.

* * * * *

On a cold, snowy day in December, Harley holes up in her tiny apartment to marathon all of her favorite holiday movies. She grabs some snacks and orange soda and plants herself right in front of the television, a thick, woolen blanket draped around her shoulders to keep her warm. 

She’s only fifteen minutes into “Eight Crazy Nights” when somebody starts banging at her front door. She isn’t expecting any company, and so she’s more than a little bit surprised when she opens the door and finds Ivy standing on her doorstep. 

While Harley is wrapped up in every warm article of clothing she owns, Ivy doesn’t seem bothered by the weather at all. She’s only got on a thin, fall trench coat and a long pair of black, heeled boots to protect her from the cold. It takes Harley a second to realize that she’s adjusted the pigment of her skin, leaving her complexion peachy and normal.

“Red!”

Harley is so happy to see her that she almost misses the ice-skates that Ivy dangles in front of her. 

“So,” Ivy says, smirking as she holds out the skates for Harley to take. “You still feel like going ice-skating?”

In seconds, Harley’s mood jumps from a six to a ten. She starts bouncing on her toes, grinning up at Ivy with unrestrained excitement. 

“Oh my gosh are you kiddin’?” The blanket around her shoulders falls to the floor and she glances down at her pajamas. She…should probably change out of those. “Just…just gimme five minutes!” 

Harley darts into her bedroom and skids to a stop in front of her dresser. After a moment of consideration, she pulls out a pair of gray leggings and a long, cute top to wear. In the interest of time, she leaves her hair down and tugs a light blue beanie over her ears. 

She finishes applying her lipstick in record time and pops back out to the livingroom. 

“Ready!” she announces, but Ivy looks skeptical. 

“No scarf?”

“Oh!” Harley bolts back into her room and returns with the first one she finds. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

Ivy doesn’t remind her to bring gloves, and Harley may or may not be leaving them behind on purpose, in the hope that Ivy will throw her that fond, exasperated look later and huddle close to her as she blows warm air onto Harley’s hands.

* * * * *

The ice rink is located outdoors, not far from Harley’s place.

Everything in Gotham is decorated for the holidays by now, and the rink is no different. There are bright green eaves lining the inner walls of the ice rink and twinkling little lights wrapped around the entrance. Christmas music is playing, bright and sweet, and Harley feels that familiar, pleasant ache in her chest. 

“Don’tcha just love Christmas-time?” she says, taking a seat on one of the benches by the rink. “All the lights an’ colors an’ music…makes a girl feel all gooey inside.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ivy says, but she’s smiling as she reaches down to lace up her skates. 

* * * * *

It turns out Ivy isn’t very good at skating.

She clings to Harley the entire time, her skates scraping unsteadily against the ice as she struggles to keep her balance. It’s the least graceful thing Harley’s ever seen her do, and she kind of wishes she were filming it. 

It isn’t often that Ivy goes this far out of her comfort zone, and she’s clearly making an effort tonight to seem more effusive than she really is. Every so often Ivy forces a big smile, in a weak effort to seem like she’s having fun. But she’s so obviously uncomfortable, and so out of her element, that her smiles always come out pained.

Harley tries to be encouraging.

“Don’t you worry, Red,” she says, tightening her arm around Ivy’s waist. “I gotcha, I promise.”

Ivy nods stiffly, but a moment later she leans in close and says,

“If you drop me, I will never let you forget it.”

Harley grins and bumps her hip against Ivy’s, leaving her to fumble for a moment to regain her balance. The panicked look on Ivy’s face is priceless, and Harley starts to giggle. 

“Woops!”

“Harley, that’s not funny!” Ivy snaps. Harley turns to argue with her – watching people fall down is the crux of physical comedy, after all – but stops short when she realizes that Ivy has actually started pouting.

It’s equal parts adorable and ridiculous, and Harley has to fight back a smile. 

“Aw, Red, I’m sorry,” she says, leaning in to press a kiss to Ivy’s cheek. “Ya forgive me?”

Ivy blinks at her, color slowly rising in her cheeks. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Public displays of affection always get her all flustered. 

“Hey, c’mon,” Harley prompts, nudging Ivy lightly. “Just a few more laps and we can stop.”

“But I can’t skate,” Ivy grumbles, glaring down at the ice. “I never took lessons.”

“Well, that’s okay!” Harley chirps, reaching down to squeeze her hand. “I can teach ya.”

Ivy seems skeptical, but she doesn’t push Harley away from her or try to flee, so Harley figures she must be willing to try.

“A’right, Red, take my hand.”

And Ivy does.

* * * * *

By the time they make it off the rink, Harley’s feet are aching and her fingers are totally frozen. Ivy seems grateful to be back on solid ground, unlacing her skates as fast as she can.

As Harley removes her own ice-skates and reaches for her boots, she notices the row of vendors lined up around the rink. Some of them are selling Christmas cookies, and some are handing out winter beverages like hot chocolate and warm apple cider. 

“Ooh, can we get some hot chocolate, Red?” Harley asks, tugging on her boots as quickly as she can. “Please, please, please?”

Ivy’s lips curve upward.

“Sure.”

When she and Ivy approach one of the drink stands, a round, friendly man takes their order. He says that the two of them look familiar, but luckily he doesn’t put two and two together as he prepares two cups of hot chocolate for them. Before he hands them over, he drops a spoonful of tiny marshmallows into each cup.

“Extra for her,” Ivy tells him, her arms crossed over her chest like she’s daring him to challenge her. The man nods, and another spoonful gets added to Harley’s drink. 

“Here ya go, ladies.” He leans over the divide to hand them each a cup, wishing them a happy holiday season. 

Harley beams at him, glad she’s found somebody who’s embracing the holiday spirit just as much as she is. 

“Thanks a bunch!”

Ivy leads her away from the vendors to find a quiet place for them to stand. Once they’ve stopped walking, Ivy starts sipping slowly at her drink, while Harley takes a big fat gulp from her cup and nearly burns off her tongue. Ivy doesn’t seem to notice that particular gaff, though. She’s too busy deliberately avoiding eye contact to pay any attention to Harley’s misfortune. 

And sure enough, that weird tension between them is back.

Harley squints thoughtfully at her best friend, trying to somehow gauge what she’s thinking. To figure out why she’s been acting so distant.

She just ends up staring, though, because Ivy is quite striking and it’s hard not to appreciate that. Especially now, when Ivy’s cheeks are flushed bright red from the cold, and her breath is appearing in short, warm bursts between them. She looks especially pretty like this, with color in her cheeks and small, crystal snowflakes caught in her hair. 

Harley almost tells her so. 

“Oh!” Ivy exclaims, surprising Harley when she turns suddenly to reach into her coat. She sets her drink down on snowy ground and produces a small gift for Harley to take. “I just remembered, I have something for you.”

“You got me a present?” Harley says, staring at Ivy in wonderment.

Ivy nods, and Harley notes the beginnings of a shy smile. 

“I did,” she says. “For Hanukkah. Tonight’s the first night, right?”

Harley blinks at her, surprised.

“I, uh…yeah. It is.”

That’s one of the best things about Ivy: she remembers all of the little things that Harley tells her, things nobody else ever cared enough to remember. Important things, like how her mom drank and her dad was never around much and how she didn’t grow up decorating a Christmas tree like all the other kids on the block. 

“Thanks, Red,” she says, and she blinks away the moisture that’s gathering at the corners of her eyes. Without hesitation, she starts tearing through the wrapping paper as fast as she can to uncover her gift. 

Underneath the wrapping paper is a long, thin box, about the length of a bracelet. Inside, Harley finds two shiny tickets.

“They’re for The Nutcracker,” Ivy explains, rushing through the words like she’s embarrassed to say them. “You told me you never had a chance to see it as a kid, so I thought maybe we could go together this year. The New York troupe is in town this week, so…”

Harley blinks at her in surprise, trying to piece together a response. 

“I…wow.”

Okay, so that’s not really what she meant to say, but Harley doesn’t exactly have a lot of experience receiving presents – especially not sweet, thoughtful ones – so this whole thing has kind of thrown her for a loop. 

Ivy misinterprets her reaction, though, and assumes that Harley is displeased with her gift. Her whole body has gone rigid over the course of a few seconds and she now has her arms crossed in front of her chest to create a physical barrier between them. There is no warmth left in her gaze, only a hard, stubborn defensiveness that masks the hurt. 

“Nevermind,” Ivy says shortly. She’s talking in that cold, cutting voice she uses when she’s trying to be cruel, and Harley cuts her off before things can deteriorate any further.

“It’s perfect,” she blurts out, hugging her gift to her chest. “I jus’…I didn’ think ya’d remember all that stuff I said. Mistah Jay wasn’ too good at listenin’.” 

“Oh,” Ivy says, the tension from moments ago starting to seep away. Her expression softens as she studies Harley’s face carefully. “Of course I remembered, Harl. You’re important to me.”

It isn’t the first time Ivy’s shared that sentiment with her, but it still makes Harley’s face go a bit red.

“Wait, but…but I didn’t get you anything!” Harley realizes, her eyes widening in horror. “I mean, I was gonna go shoppin’ next week for stuff but-”

“I don’t need a present,” Ivy assures her, with a small, amused smile. “Human holidays don’t really mean much to me. You know that.”

Harley bites her lip, an unsuccessful attempt to keep her inner thoughts from pouring out. 

“I’m sorry, Red.” The words are out before she can stop them. “I’m sorry fer whatever I did that gotcha mad.”

“Mad?” Ivy makes a face. “I’m not mad, Harl.”

Huh?

“But-but you’ve been avoidin’ me!”

Ivy sighs. 

“I…look, I’m not angry at you, Harley. Really. And I’m not avoiding you.”

That last one is an obvious lie, and something about the breezy way Ivy says it makes Harley’s skin crawl. 

“Yeah you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Liar.

“Yeah? Well then how come ya don’t want me near yer plants anymore?” Harley demands, her feelings from the past few weeks rising to the surface. “An’ how come every time I come by yer always too busy ta spend time with me?”

“Harley-”

Ivy tries to interject, but Harley is on a roll now and if she doesn’t get all of it out tonight, she isn’t sure they’ll ever have this conversation.

“Ya know, I thought after me an’ puddin’ got through, you and me were gonna maybe start somethin’,” Harley says, blinking back tears. “I thoughtcha wanted that.”

“Of course I want that!” Ivy snaps. “You have no idea how much I-” She stops herself mid-sentence, pressing her lips together. 

“So what’s the problem?” Harley asks, her voice cracking. “Is it…is it ‘cause ya don’t feel the same way about me anymore?”

Ivy laughs, but it’s a short, sad sound.

“I don’t think anything could change the way I feel about you,” she admits. “Not a damn thing. You could chop down every tree in Robinson Park, every tree in Gotham City, Harl, and I think I’d still be in love with you.”

Wait, what?

Harley stares at her with wide eyes, and she isn’t sure who looks more surprised by the admission: her, or Ivy. 

“Oh,” she breathes, and for a while she can’t think of anything else to say. Ivy looks very tired all of a sudden, like her confession has sucked some of the spirit out of her. 

“I’m…I know you don’t feel that way about me,” she says. “I know you don’t have room for anybody but him.” Ivy says that like it’s a mantra, something she’s repeated to herself lots of times, and Harley almost laughs, because wow, Ivy is so wrong it’s almost funny. 

But Harley isn’t so good with words, with explaining how she really feels. She supposes they’ve always had that in common. So Harley forgoes words altogether, surging forward to capture Ivy’s lips in a deep kiss. 

Ivy stills against her, and for a second Harley is worried that she’s made a huge mistake. But then Ivy’s fingers brush against her cheek, warm and gentle, and she’s kissing her back, pressed so close to her that Harley can feel all of the heat radiating off of her skin. 

It’s different from the kisses that they’ve shared in the past. More hungry and desperate. Less like flying, and more like coming home after a really long trip. And when they finally pull apart for air, Ivy smiles at her like she’s the most important person in the world. 

“I do, too,” Harley whispers, the realization only fully setting in once the words are out there. “I’m in love with you, too.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Ivy says, but there’s a shimmer of hope that wasn’t there before.

“I’m not lyin’!” Harley insists, and a mischievous glint appears in her eyes as she thinks of the perfect solution. “Well I guess I jus' gotta keep kissin’ ya ‘til y’believe me, huh?”

Ivy laughs, bright and sweet, and it’s accompanied by a sharp note of surprise, like her own happiness catches her off guard. 

Harley is ready to make good on her proposal, because Ivy’s lips are very soft and red and she’d really like to get back to kissing her as soon as she can, but Ivy’s attention suddenly seems to shift elsewhere.

“Your hands,” she says, removing Harley’s arms from around her neck to study her pale, white fingers. Her brow furrows in concern. “They’re freezing. Didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Nuh uh,” Harley says, shaking her head as innocently as she can. “Musta forgot.”

Ivy raises an eyebrow like she doesn’t quite believe her, but she doesn’t call her out on it. Instead, she closes her hands over Harley’s and pulls them to her lips, blowing warm air onto them and pressing the occasional kiss to her knuckles, until the feeling starts to return to her fingers. 

Harley can still hear holiday music chiming out of the speakers by the rink. A woman is crooning sweetly about Christmas, in a low, sweet voice.

"Happy holidays, Red," Harley says, and Ivy smiles that slow, special smile that nobody else ever gets to see.

"Happy holidays, Harley."


End file.
